Our booth was sandwiched between some foreign fellows on one side drinking hot tea,
"I'm jealous." One man said to the other.
On the other side of us was a transplant Yankee girl drinking a soda with no ice. She was all alone.
She kept peeking over her shoulder toward the door and checking her phone.
We got our late-night hashbrowns and coffee and
while we were waiting for our waffles
things got very gay.
At first it was a legion of oiled up Chippendales dancers
and bikini clad lady strippers
who sauntered in and sat with the Yankee girl
like they all loved her.
One of the foreigner fellows grinned at the development,
but the back of his companion's head seemed disinterested.
This was followed up with a procession of drag royalty
with wafts of sweet perfumes and glitter in their wake.
They met the Yankee with coos and giggles
of mutual admiration.
The grinning foreigner fellow's eyes switched between
his companion and the growing party behind us
like a kit-cat clock.
The back of the companion's head didn't budge.
It did not move for a car crash on the highway outside.
It did not move for his hashbrowns setting fire.
It did not move when Duke and Carolina started to fist fight on TV.
But when a pretty local girl in the daisy dukes and an attitude to match said to the Yankee:
"C'mere baby, lemme get that syrup off your cheek..."
...the back of that foreign boy's head WHIPPED around, and
behind his reserved face there was a repressed fury that
Southerners know well.
He confronted the pride-parade behind us, and
gave them a fussing in the most calm
nature documentary sounding voice
we've ever heard.
This is sorta what he said:
"Darling, I cannot stand here
while you toss me and our husband aside."
He pointed to his grinning companion who was now
smiling like he was possessed by the Devil.
He continued: "Why have you forsaken my care
for such a subpar cleaning of that
syrup on your cheek that should have been
dabbed away by me?"
He pointed to the local girl accusingly:
"Would SHE read you your creepypastas at bedtime?
Are her floors or counters any more spotless than mine?
Can she sew up your clothes AND your wounds like I can?
I think not..."
Truth be told, the local girl could do all of those things,
as could the mountain of hired southern bisexuals pawing at the Yankee,
but they didn't care,
they were paid to make the fussing foreign man jealous
and they got the job done.
Best of all
Before all three of the blushing spouses left,
they paid for everyone's waffles, hashbrowns, and tea.